


Gabriel Seth: Magical Girl

by purplekitte



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, The Devastation of Baal - Guy Haley, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sailor Moon Fusion, And angst, Blood Angels, Character Study, Inherently silly premise played for drama, Kissing, M/M, The Power Of Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 15:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplekitte/pseuds/purplekitte
Summary: Dante has entrusted to Gabriel Seth one of the greatest relics of their Chapter.





	Gabriel Seth: Magical Girl

‘This is so embarrassing,’ Gabriel Seth grit out between clenched teeth. He bit the inside of his mouth as he did so, the salty blood filling his mouth distracting him and making him even angier.

Dante looked at him with amusement. Not that Seth could see that behind the damnable gold mask he wore, but he was sure it was happening. Bastard. ‘It is a great relic of our Chapter, and yours. A great honour. I thought you would be compatible with it and you are. You are a true heir to Nassir Amit.’

‘A great _weapon_ of our parent Legion.’

‘Are you not strong with it?’

Seth growled. He wiped some of the blood from his lips onto his puffy sleeve just to make everyone around him more uncomfortable. ‘That’s not the point.’ It was why he hadn’t thrown the damn reliquary and its sacred feather back at the Lord Commander of the Blood Angels. ‘I was expecting something more… blood and tearing, you know…’

‘Then maybe your idea of who Nassir Amit was is flawed.’ Seth ground his teeth harder, but he could not deny that. ‘Maybe your idea of who you are is flawed.’ Furious, but almost grateful, Seth threw a punch.

*

‘Are you shitting me?’

The Sanguinor didn’t say anything but it did hit Seth upside the head, which was how Flesh Tearers communicated anyway.

‘Yeah, yeah, I’ll do my duty.’

The Sanguinor held out an open hand to Seth. He knew the meaning. _Do you not want to?_

‘Of course I do. That’s why I _don’t_ want to. It blurs the purpose. I am here to beat a hive tyrant to death with its own bug arm.’

The Sanguinor cocked his head to the side. _Is discovering that you can become something greater than you are the same as losing your identity?_

Seth spat on the ground, dirt steaming with acid. When he looked back up, the Sanguinor was gone. _Bastard. I am a Flesh Tearer. I will destroy all in my sight._ But…

He sighed and raised the reliquary high overhead. ‘Brothers, to me! By the Blood of Sanguinius! By the rage of Amit! Baal Prism Powers, activate!’

*

‘You could be my heir. You know that, Gabriel. If you decided to take on the mantle after I’m gone.’

‘You’re not dying.’ Seth really should have known better, but the whole idea seemed impossible. ‘You’ll outlive the stars and the Emperor.’

‘Blasphemy,’ Dante chided, thought he did not follow the Imperial Cult.

‘You’re practically the second coming of Sanguinius, everyone knows that.’

‘Sanguinius died.’

Well, yeah. He was very aware of that. ‘ _You’re_ Sanguinius. _I’m_ Amit. Who left to make his own Successor Chapter, who wasn’t put in charge of the Blood Angels for a reason.’

Dante shrugged. ‘Maybe we were wrong to imitate our primarch so closely, who was not without his flaws. Maybe we need to find our salvation within ourselves instead of always living our father’s life. Maybe you can save us.’

Seth shut his eyes tightly for a moment at the memory of it, the power flowing through him from the reliquary, washing over his brethren, bringing even the fallen back to sanity, to purpose. He knew the righteous rage as well as the unrighteous one. That was easy. That was who he was. This was something beyond that, so raw and intimate and pure it made him want to look away in embarrassment.

In a quiet, almost casual growl, Seth invoked the power to transform. His power-armour vanished, for he no longer needed it. He was garbed in a force stronger than ceramite. Simple cloth covered him now, red with black bows and accents, the skirt just reaching the thick knees of his tree-trunk-like legs. Normally he disdained magic, hated anything that stank of sorcery. But this, he knew what this was and what fuelled it, at least.

Dante nodded to him. Alone, without his helmet, he looked old. But he smiled too, to see Seth like this, to see the light of the reliquary.

‘Love,’ he spat. ‘My use, my purpose, is to destroy as much as I can of the enemies of the Imperium, pointing myself and my Chapter at valid targets and them alone, until I die. That is all I am good for.’

‘Was that all Amit was good for? A weapon with a human heart does not lose either title.’

Love. Seth remembered. He remembered his lord’s hand on Amit’s shoulder, ruffling his hair, cupping his cheek. The echo of Sanguinius’ death had destroyed a Legion, Sanguinius’ murder by his most beloved brother, but this moment too had power in its echo. Whatever abomination Chaos made of myth, it could not cancel out entirely this story. Love redeemed, love made things turn out alright, love made people better.

As their lips had met, Amit thought, _This is all I need. I will never lose myself, because I have this. And I always will--no matter what happens, no matter what grief or loss we come to, may this moment now never be polluted._

Gabriel Seth had never felt anything like it in his life, so it was easy to separate himself from the memories. ‘People sure like to say we live in a fallen age.’

Dante looked thoughtful. ‘I disagree, at least with what you mean. They had greater armies with more warriors and weapons and knowledge than we do today. But the hearts of men have not changed. People are just people.’

Seth shook his head, a vehement denial of being put on the same pedestal as that.

Dante ignored him and continued, ‘You were a wonder out there, you know that? The best of what we are. Do you feel less yourself, you who have been so often called the worst of what we are?’

‘I seem to recall you calling me that yourself.’

‘I don’t deny it.’

Out of the corner of his eyes, Dante’s armour reflected the light like a halo of gold. Seth could almost see wings. ‘If I kissed you now, would you taste like him?’

Dante shook his head, shattering the illusion. His hair was white, not golden. His face was lined with an age that their primarch had never lived to reach. He was no angel, merely a man. ‘I am not him.’ There was anger in his denial, not so much at Seth personally as at his entire legend. ‘I am _myself_.’

‘Kiss me yourself then, if you think I’m worthy of it.’ Gabriel Seth had never in his life hesitated from what he wanted.

‘There is no “worthy.” There is only what is. We’re all killers who left our homes and outlived our parents. Worthy is not how love works, freely chosen and freely given.’

But he stepped closed, power and predatory grace in him too. Seth had to force himself not to take a step back, not to bow his head. Well, maybe a little--even without heels on his boots he was taller than the Blood Angel.

Dante was right. He didn’t kiss like Sanguinius. Seth didn’t melt in his arms like Amit. But it was something and Seth felt the reliquary respond to it even as his own hearts beat faster. From the greatest to the least, they could grasp this power if they reached for it. Dante pet his hair a bit as he pulled back, licking both their blood from his lips.

 _Okay,_ he thought to himself, angry at himself for doing it and for hesitating. _I’ll use the powers of love and justice to be what the Blood Angels need._


End file.
